


I’ll Stand By You

by funnygirlthatbelle13



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb’s backstory angst, Depression, Gen, Implied Suicide Attempt, Jester isn’t okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 21:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnygirlthatbelle13/pseuds/funnygirlthatbelle13
Summary: Caleb wakes up in the middle of the night to find Jester standing at the edge of the tower. Confronted with the fact that Jester is definitely not okay, the two of them are forced to confront their personal issues.





	I’ll Stand By You

When he awoke in the middle of the night, there was a moment when Caleb could not remember what had so violently woken him. But then it came back to him: Crystals. Residuum crystals. Blood everywhere. Caduceus sadly explaining a vision from the Wildmother and what it would mean for Caleb. Beauregard using her stunning strike to immobilize him as Fjord did the cutting. Blood everywhere. 

He could not go back to sleep, not after that. So instead, he wrapped his purple coat around himself like a shield and walked out of his bedroom. It took a second for him to recognize where his feet were taking him, as he hadn’t had a direction in mind. But, of all the places to go this late at night, the top of the tower where their tree stood tall and proud was about as good as it could get. 

When he reached his destination, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to his surroundings. The bright daylight of under the tree compared to the vast darkness of Rosohna wasn’t easy on his human eyes, but it didn’t take darkvision to see Jester standing at the very edge of the tower, a night breeze blowing her hair as she stared out into the darkness.

Panic filled his chest before he had time to process the sight in front of him. Half-formed memories of people he had once known, back when he was broken, came rushing out at him. He knew what needed to be done, but startling her could be a risk. If only he had gone to buy more feathers when Nott had offered, this would not be such a dire situation.

“Jester?” he asked quietly, praying that he did not startle her to death. But when that failed to get her attention, he raised his voice from a whisper to something of a regular volume. “Jester!”

She turned around, and the melancholy atmosphere that had been surrounding her seemed to be absorbed into her being. If he did not know better, he would have thought nothing of it. But he was not naive. He could see the sadness still lingering in her eyes, even if she did hide it well.

“Oh hi, Caleb.” It wasn’t her usual, cheerful greeting, but it didn’t seem to fit the situation he had found her in. She turned away from him, staring out at Rosohna once more. 

“Is-is everything okay?” he asked her, hoping against all hope that he didn’t sound as panicked as he felt.

Remain calm. Maintain composure, a part of his brain that still spoke like Ikithon muttered, If you show fear, you have already lost. 

“Yeah, yeah no everything’s great! We’re totally cool up here!” It was hollow, even she knew that, but the cheeriness was there even as she stood directly on the edge of their roof. Caleb slammed his eyes shut, fighting the flashback that was trying to force itself on him. 

“You are pretty close to the edge, ja? Maybe it’s a good idea to take a step back?”

Please, his own voice pleaded in his head, please take a step back. Please don’t make me have to see this, to have to explain this to the others.

“I’m not going to fall, Caleb.” There was a hint of her normal teasing, but it did nothing to dissuade his panic. Falling, after all, is very different from jumping.

“No, you are very dexterous,” he agreed, “but… maybe for my sake, so I do not worry?”

Please, Jester, he thought, I worry about everything that could ever go wrong, but even I didn’t think I had to worry about this.

Jester turned to him, her head cocked curiously as she watched him all but begging her to take a step back.

Give them an inch, Trent’s voice lectured, they will take a mile. Never give someone a reason to believe that you care.

No, his own voice thought, That might be true for a killer, for Bren, but it wouldn’t be true for Caleb.

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when Jester took one, then two, then three steps away from the edge. He needed to say something. He needed to do something. He felt so out of his element. This was what Caduceus was good at, not Caleb.

“I did not think anybody else would be awake right now.” It was weak, but it would hopefully get the ball rolling. 

“Yeah, well, I was just having some trouble sleeping, you know?” There was a little of the sadness he had seen when he had first climbed the tower, but not nearly as much. Ordinarily, he would have let it go.

How much have we missed?

“Were you having nightmares or-”

“No no no nothing like that. I’m fine! I’m just not very sleepy.” She clearly thought that should be reassuring. It almost was. He paused, staring down at his fidgeting hands. This was not his thing. This wasn’t what he was good at. 

But you are the one who is awake, so you have no choice.

“You would- you’d let us know if something was wrong, ja?”

Obviously, she wouldn’t, but it was something other than an accusation, so it would have to do. 

Silence. He looked up at saw that she was pulling at a loose thread on her cloak, avoiding looking at him entirely.

Make sure that the person you are talking to looks you in the eye. You deserve respect, Ikithon reminded him. But Caleb ignored the reminder and instead chose to simply watch her for a moment.

“You know,” he began, “I am not quite as good at reading people as you or Caduceus, but I can tell when something’s wrong. If you are not comfortable sharing with me and would rather-”

“No, Caleb, it’s not you,” she assured him, “I just… don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Well, that was… not the most helpful. Honestly, he had been slightly hopeful the dam that was Jester would break; he definitely wasn’t equipped for this kind of gentle interrogation.

“You think there is something wrong with you?’ he asked, grasping her elbow and leading her towards the base of the tree. She followed, sliding unceremoniously to the ground.

“I just… I feel so tired. Not like sleepy but like… I dunno. It’s like I should be happy. Nothing bad is going on, but I’m so tired. I can’t be happy when I know I should be. That probably sounds pretty crazy.”

“Nein. Not at all.” How could it, when it was so familiar?

She must have sensed something in his voice, because Jester turned to stare up at him.

“Do you know what’s wrong with me, Caleb?”

It wasn’t accusatory, but he felt himself panic for a brief moment, fumbling over his words. How could he explain what he himself barely understood, yet at the same time, knew too well?

“Well, sometimes, when we are… when we have gone through a lot, not always but you have- uh, when bad things happen to us, sometimes our minds take longer to heal than our bodies.”

Her head tilted again, still staring up at him. 

Sit down. Get on her level, he thought.

Do not give up the high ground, Trent barked back. 

Caleb settled for leaning against the tree in a way that might look cool if it were Fjord or Beauregard, but undoubtedly was awkward when it was him. 

“So what I just cast Lesser Restoration and I’m all better?” 

“I’m afraid it isn’t always quite that simple,” he told her. 

It never goes away. Sometimes, a miracle will occur, but you never truly recover. The empty feeling in your chest never gets filled for more than a moment. For some of us, life is suffering. That is a fact that simply must be accepted.

He does not tell her any of this. 

“But wait,” Jester said after a pause, “if this kind of thing happens because you see bad shit, then why am I the only one who’s feeling like this?”

Because the gods are cruel, he thought, If they let someone as good as you feel as shitty as someone like me. At least I deserve it. But you…

“Well, our family history and biology has a lot to do with it,” is what he says instead, “but also… you are not alone? I am- I have been… you are not the only one who feels like this.”

There was complete silence between the two of them, and Caleb took the opportunity to look away from Jester and towards the Lucid Bastion. 

“Do you feel like that now?” Her voice was quiet, and Caleb was momentarily struck by just how young his friend was. 

“I have… ja. I always do, more or less.”

Why lie? She’ll find out one way or another.

“Does it get better?”

No, never, his mind immediately responded. But then memories crashed through the wall of melancholy in his mind. Nott, twisting flowers into his hair for good luck. Beauregard, dragging him to see the weird moon man. Caduceus, humming as he made breakfast. Jester, finishing a threatening message with a song. Yasha, carefully shaving him with her sword as she explained how to people. Fjord, teaching them all a sea shanty because “you can’t be proper sailors without at least one under your belt.” Mollymauk, delighted at his plan to break into the hospital.

“It has,” he nearly fumbled, nearly losing his words, but managed to continue on after a brief pause to scratch at his beard, “I have gotten used to it. It is better now that I am not alone anymore.”

To further his point, he sat down under the tree next to her. Jester sat in silence, deep in thought, before turning to him.

“But why me?” she asked quietly, “You were an assassin and people tortured you, so that makes sense if this happens after bad stuff. But Nott was turned into a goblin! Fjord drowned! Molly was buried alive!”

“These things are… random sometimes.” 

And sometimes they happen to those who deserve it.

“But you have also seen some shit, too. And, uh, also… it isn’t a competition to see who has the most fucked up past. Sometimes shit happens.”

If life were fair, you would never feel like this. For me, it is justice. For you, it is cruel beyond words. 

Neither of them said a word. Caleb turned to see her picking at that same loose thread again, silent and somber, a frown etched onto her face. 

“Is there… is your confusion, uh, the only reason you have not mentioned this before?” They were words, but the words weren’t the right words. If only Jester was talking to Beauregard or Caduceus, someone who wouldn’t fuck this up and leave her worse than before. Or, if it had to be him, if only he could speak in his native tongue where words were not so hard to find.

“I dunno,” she said with a shrug, “I guess… I didn’t want anybody to realize that I wasn’t happy because I’m supposed to be happy all the time, you know? And if I’m not, you guys might not want me around anymore.” The last part was quiet, and Caleb felt his heart break when he heard it.

Nein, you are the glue that holds us all together, he thought, None of us would be together if it weren’t for you telling me how stinky I am.

But he did not say that. Instead, he said:

“ Do you not want me around anymore when I… after I kill people with fire or have a panic attack or get charmed to try and kill you all or-”

“No!” she exclaimed, quick to defend someone who did not deserve defending, “ We love you, Caleb.”

Caleb was dumbstruck. 

“Oh.”

It wasn’t like someone hadn’t told him that they loved him in twenty years. There was no need to panic like he was currently doing. The last person he had heard it from hadn’t been Astrid, minutes before the spell that changed his life forever. No, Nott had told him that… that one time on the beach in Nicodranas. 

Okay, so it had been a while, and Caleb wasn’t quite sure how to process that. But he did his best, awkwardly coughing before continuing on with his original point.

“Well, if you… I mean, uh, then why would it be different for you? We...” 

It’s just a word. A word that she desperately needs to hear.

“...love you. That does not change because you are going through something. If, uh, if this group could handle two false names and Fjord’s accent changing, I think we can deal with you not being happy all of the time.” 

“You love me?” Jester asked. Of course she skipped right over his joke to focus on that damn word again. 

“Of course we do-” That’s not what she wants to hear. “- I do. You are, uh, you have been exceptionally kind to me, no matter if I deserve it or no. Your heart, your kindness… is far more important to me than the unicorns or the lollipops.”

Was that enough? She was smiling, but it did not look like a genuine Jester smile. He began combing through memories, trying to catalogue when she had been truly happy and when it was just for show.

Say something, boy, Ikithon snapped in his brain, Silence can be power, but not how you use it.

“We will be here for you, uh, as you figure out what you need.”

“I think I need, like, a ten year nap,” she said with a weak chuckle, which he copied.

“I tried something like that once. I don’t, uh, I don’t recommend it.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. I’m so stupid,” she said, slumping down into herself as she finished.

“Nein, not at all.” His voice came out harsher than intended, and Jester seemed surprised. She stared at him for a moment before curling back into herself.

Idiot. You’ve only made it worse.  
Was that his voice or Trent’s? Sometimes it was hard to tell.

He said nothing, letting her think for as long as she needed while he stared up into the tree. It was truly beautiful, the light filtering through the branches. As he was watching, he could have sworn he saw a weasel skittering around up there, but he was gone too fast for Caleb to be sure.

It was three full minutes before Jester finally spoke.

“We should probably go inside.”

“Ja,” he agreed. The breeze, which had felt nice upon first arrival had begun to nip at him. “Would you like a nightcap?”

Jester shrugged in a noncommittal way that looked strange coming from her, but she did not object as he led her down the tower and towards the kitchen.

Not knowing what to say, Caleb busied himself with searching for a pot and some ingredients, surprised at himself but not backing away from his decision. Thought was not doing what it should, so maybe instinct would do the trick?

“This is something my mother would do for me when I had nightmares as a child,” he explained, gesturing towards the pot. Lighting the stove with his flame like an old pro, he began adding honey and spices to the milk.

“What was she like?” Jester asked, quiet but with a curious gleam in her eye. He smiled. This was closer to the Jester he knew, not falsely exuberant nor full of melancholy. Something in between.

“You would have liked her,” he said, “And she you.”

And with that, he spent the next ten minutes telling Jester all about his mother. How she knew the name of every plant in the Zemni Fields. How she always made sure to leave a bowl of milk out in case any animals needed food. How she knew how to make a feast out of next to nothing. How, when she smiled, her eyes crinkled so much that you couldn’t see them. How she sang to him in Zemnian whenever he couldn’t sleep, her voice gentle and low. How she had once backhanded a man who had made a comment on how attractive Astrid was when they were children. All of these memories came pouring out of him as he stood over the stove, and for a brief moment in time, he felt as if Una was standing by his side. 

“Wow, she sounds really amazing, Caleb,” Jester said. 

He nodded, pouring the sweetened, spiced milk into two of Caduceus’ mugs.

“Ja, she was,” he eventually agreed as he handed Jester her cup. 

They sat together in companionable silence, taking sips of the warm, sweet concoction.

“It’s really good, Caleb,” Jester said after a while.

“Danke,” he replied, though he was hardly focused on the drink in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, in another kitchen, in another country, in another time. Jester seemed to sense this, as she didn’t say anything else until her drink was halfway finished.

“You won’t tell the others about this, right?” she asked, not looking at him, but rather, into her mug. 

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Caleb said after a pause, “But, uh, I do not think you need to hide this.”

Still looking deep into her cup, as if expecting some sort of revelation from it, Jester tentatively spoke again.

“I’m not sure-I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Okay.”

It was an instantaneous response, and his speed seemed to catch Jester off guard. Her head snapped up so she could stare at him.

“Really?”

Did she really think I would go behind her back and tell the others? he thought, I have failed her more than I realized. We all have.

“Ja… as long as you are safe, it is not a group issue. But we won’t be able to help as much if the others still think everything is good,” is what he said instead. When Jester did not immediately respond, he took the opportunity to continue to drink his own warm beverage. The honey felt soothing against his throat, even though he wasn’t sick, and the spices were like a quilt wrapped tightly around him.

“I just don’t think I can do it,” Jester said weakly, “not yet anyways. I’m so… tired.” 

And just like that, all of the walls which she had built up around herself seemed to crumble at once. The floodgates opened up, and Jester began to cry shaking sobs of what Caleb recognized as long-repressed sorrow. He shuffled around the kitchen table so that he was behind her before wrapping his arms around her. It was something Caduceus had done for him, and Caleb could only hope Jester also would find comfort in it.

But you are not Caduceus. You’re a monster who doesn’t deserve-

He forced himself to ignore his thoughts, instead focusing on the trembling tiefling in his arms. Perhaps it was the recent talks of his own mother, or maybe his familiarity with the Ruby of the Sea as a performer, but his gut reaction to seeing Jester this way was music. Squeezing her upper arm, he began to hum a melody he had all but forgotten. He did not have the courage for lyrics, nor did he think she would appreciate him waking the whole house with his singing, but he hummed gently into her ear, hoping that he could convey that same sense of comfort without using words. 

After several minutes of this: of hugging, rocking, humming, and sobbing, Jester seemed to run out of tears. She sniffled loudly, breaking out of Caleb’s grasp to wipe her nose.

“Caleb, I am so tired.” 

It wasn’t a complaint or a plea, merely a statement. He smiled sadly, hoping that her darkvision did not allow her to see the tears threatening to pour from his own eyes.

“I know, liebling, I know. Do you want to go to bed?”

Please go to sleep, Jester. You will feel better in the morning. 

She didn’t respond right away, instead taking a sip of the now cold drink in front of her. Jester turned in her chair, now looking directly up into his face.

“No, I’m still… restless, I guess? But you can go to bed if you’re tired. I’m okay now.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think either of us will be getting a long rest tonight.”

Jester turned away, and Caleb could see blush on her cheeks.

Think, dummkopf, think. What does Nott do when you become totally useless? 

“Would you like to do something? I have found that accomplishing a task, learning a new spell or something helps with the helplessness, the, uh, the hopelessness. Moving forward is important.”

Hypocrite, he thought to himself, You fucking hypocrite. 

“Okay,” Jester said, wiping her eye with her sleeve, “What should we do?”

He was exhausted. That had to be it. There was no other explanation for what he said next.

“We could bake?”

Oh, gods, why did you say that? What a stupid idea, he thought. Blush creeped up his cheeks as he looked away. Jester giggled in a way that seemed weak but real, and Caleb couldn’t help but smile. His stupid comment might just have been worth his embarrassment, if it made her smile like that.

“I don’t actually know how to bake, Caleb. I eat sweets; I’ve never made them.”

“It has been a while,” he said, “but if I have a recipe, I think we’ll be okay. I, uh, I believe that there are some cookbooks in the library that should do the trick.”

Jester nodded and got up, Caleb following right behind towards the library. Instinctually, he began to trace a finger along the bookshelf, examining the various titles he had accumulated with the help of the rest of the Nein, before selecting one. Like a seasoned pro, he began flipping through the pages until he found the section he was looking for.

“Did you used to bake a lot? When you were-before-” Jester asked, breaking the silence he hadn’t been sure how to fill.

“Ja... If I had not gotten into the Academy, I would have stayed on as an apprentice at the bakery in town.”

“You were an apprentice?” Caleb glanced up and couldn’t help but smile when he saw the smile on Jester’s face as she was staring at him. 

“Everybody needs a backup plan, ja?” he asked with a chuckle before continuing to examine the cookbook. It only took him another minute to find a reasonably doable recipe for cinnamon raisin bread.

“What do you of this one?” He flipped the book around so that she could read the recipe. 

“Sounds good to me,” Jester said with a shrug, getting up and walking out of the library. Caleb followed behind, with a strange feeling in his stomach that, were he not so tired, he might have recognized as excitement.

If someone had told him as a child that his short-lived apprenticeship with Hans in Blumenthal would lead him to baking bread in the middle of the night in Xhorhas with a tiefling who worshipped an illegal god, he would have laughed. And yet, that was exactly what he was doing. Explaining what yeast are and how they work. Having flour thrown in his face. Using his keen mind to determine exactly when to stop proofing the dough. Struggling to knead only to have Jester succeed like it was literally nothing. Placing the loaf in the oven with fingers crossed.

“Now we wait,” he muttered.

“Now we wait,” Jester repeated, wandering out of the kitchen. Caleb followed her up to the Happy Room. Once they were through the door, Jester grabbed his hand and dragged him to the couch. 

“Thank you, Caleb,” she whispered, nestling her head into his shoulder, “I know you probably had more important things you wanted to do, but this has been nice.”

“Nein,” he whispered, “nothing could be more important than this. Than you right now.”

She smiled, rubbing her head against his not unlike Frumpkin. 

Have we ever let her know that her needs count too? he wondered, Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this if we weren’t such assholes.

He rather suddenly remembered the letter from Calianna tucked into one of his books. Not assholes. You protect the people you care about. But he hadn’t. None of them had. 

Well, we’ll just have to do better from now on.

“Could you sing that song from earlier?” Jester asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Ja, I can try,” he muttered, “It has been quite some time...and I am not nearly as talented as your mother.”

Jester giggled as he began mumbling Comprehend Languages over her. Singing was already going to be hard enough, he didn’t think he could translate the song at the same time.

“Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes, come on and come to me now. Don't be ashamed to cry. Let me see you through 'cause I've seen the dark side too,” he sang, surprised that he didn’t sound terrible. Somehow, Jester became even more cuddly, snuggling into him, her hand in his hair.

“When the night falls on you, you don't know what to do. Nothing you confess could make me love you less. I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you, won’t let nobody hurt you. I'll stand by you.”

He continued through the song until Jester was fast asleep on his shoulder. With a smile, he snapped Frumpkin to him. The cat leapt from his lap, making his way towards the library. As Caleb sat there waiting for Frumpkin, Jester practically on top of him, he felt his eyes grow heavy as he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Caleb’s eyes shot open in panic. What was burning? The house? No, the bread. He pried himself out from underneath the still-sleeping Jester, mumbling a mix of curses from all the languages he knew as he ran. He pulled out the burnt loaf as Jester shuffled into the kitchen, yawning.

“It won’t be winning any awards, but it’ll do,” he said, gesturing to their bread.

“I mean, it does have to be perfect, right?” she asked, yawning once more.

“Oh no, of course not,” he muttered, “It gets the job done as is.”

“Yeah, things don’t need to be perfect to be good.” Jester whipped out a dagger and grabbed the loaf.

“Ja,” he agreed as he backed up, both because she was right and because he didn’t want to get too close to that dagger when neither of them had slept for more than an hour.

Caleb watched as she wriggled the knife around until a messy slice came off. The raisins hadn’t sunk to the bottom and the swirls were actually quite good to look at. But the surprisingly well-done interior could not outshine the literally well-done exterior.

“It is rather burnt, though.”

Dummkopf, he thought, You absolute dummkopf.

I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Trent’s voice said, and he could almost hear the smirk.

“Yeah, but it’s still good on the inside,” Jester said, either completely unaware of his self-berating or else choosing to ignore it, “And now we know not to make the same mistakes.”

For a moment, he was taken aback by the profoundness of her statement. But then he remembered that he really shouldn’t be. Jester may not be intelligent in the traditional book smart or street smart sense, she had a profound understanding of how people work, rivaled only by Caduceus.

“Are we still talking about the bread?” he asked. She giggled at his comment, but he was completely serious. 

She opened her mouth, no doubt to respond with some snarky comment, but stopped. Her head tilted upwards, and he noticed what she had first: the sounds of someone else moving in the house. 

Before he could ask who she thought it was, Caduceus entered the kitchen, eyes barely open, slippers on.

“Morning, Caduceus!” Jester greeted, and Caleb would never have guessed that she’d been crying hours before if he hadn’t personally witnessed it.

“Hey, you two,” Cad said with a tired smile, “Everything alright?”

“Neither of us could sleep, so we made bread.”

It was an abbreviated but not inaccurate summary of the night’s events, and it was not his place to go into more detail than that.

“Wow, that’s just great. I mean, not that you two aren’t sleeping but the hanging out and being productive? That’s nice.”

Despite his positive words, Caleb noticed the firbolg studying him and he did his best not to look like he was hiding something. 

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Caduceus asked.

Caleb turned to Jester, who was watching him, her eyes wide. A wave of protectiveness came crashing over him, and it dawned him that while he would gladly fight or die for any of his friends, he would kill for the strange, sweet tiefling who somehow saw the good in him. 

Her expression changed for a brief moment from one of fear to one of determination before giving him the subtlest of nods. He nodded back before turning to Caduceus, who had been watching them patiently this whole time.

“We can talk about this once we’ve eaten, I think,” Caleb offered, which seemed to satisfy Caduceus. The firbolg left the kitchen, most likely to check on the garden before breakfast.

Or, at least, that’s the excuse he would give.

Jester was playing with that loose thread again, wrapping it tightly around her pinky over and over. It was a gesture he recognized well, given that it was one he regularly used when he was stressed. He took a step forward, placing a gentle hand on her upper arm.

“It’ll be alright, Jester,” he said, smiling, “I’ll stand by you, ja?”

She smiled, looking down and giggling before wrapping her arms around him. He reciprocated, squeezing her tightly. Burying his face into her hair, he couldn’t help but smile.

He was hurting, broken. But so was she. And some horrible part of him couldn’t help but find comfort in not being alone. Of two people working together to mend their broken parts. Of them standing right beside one another through hells and high water. 

Yes, he would always stand by her. And, strangely, he felt confident that she would do the same.


End file.
